04 Jul MORE THAN JUST A NOD AT THE AIRPORT

It happens in air-
ports around the

world, or in random

places including na-
tional parks, hospi-
tals, convention cen-
ters, and sporting

events. You see each other from a distance.

As you get closer, you lock eyes for a mo-
ment and finally when you pass, you both

knowingly bow your head a bit, maybe ex-
change a smile as well. Sometimes, it can

be accompanied by a greeting—”shalom,”

“shalom aleichem,” maybe if it is Thurs-
day or Friday a “good Shabbos”—but of-
ten it is a silent nod, a quiet, yet deeply

meaningful gesture of more than just an
association, but rather a real connection.
That nod is a moment in the present that
acknowledges a common past and a shared
future.
I don’t believe any other race, culture, or

ethnicity practices the nod. Asian Ameri-
cans who don’t know each other pass each

other, African Americans, Hispanics,
Christians, Muslims, Buddhists… I have
never seen them nod, bow their heads, or
offer a greeting.
The number of Jews worldwide stands at
approximately 15.3 million, still less than
before World War II, with 7,080,000 living

in Israel and about 8.25 million outside Is-
rael, including approximately 6 million in

the United States. Professor Sergio Della

Pergola of the Hebrew University of Jeru-
salem, the foremost expert on Jewish de-
mography, posits that if not for the Holo-
caust, the number of Jews in the world

would likely today be at least 32 million.
Indeed, if not for our history of expulsions,

persecutions, pogroms, and systematic at-
tempts at our extermination, the number

could and should be much higher than that,
in the hundreds of millions.
The bottom line is there aren’t that many of
us. And so, when we pass each other, we

don’t see strangers, we don’t focus on dif-
ferences of dress, observance or Hashkafa.

We see a long-lost member of our family,
someone we are excited to unite with, if

only for a moment. We are often in unfa-
miliar places when we see someone we

have never met, yet who feels so familiar
and we nod. (And we don’t think twice
about asking this “stranger” to watch our

bag while we buy a drink or use the rest-
room, such is our inherent trust in our ex-
tended family.)

This week, we will observe Shiva Assar
B’Tammuz, the fast day that will launch

three weeks of mourning, grieving, and re-
flecting on the historic and spiritual cause

of why we remain so few in number.
On April 11, 1944, a young Anne Frank
wrote in her diary:
Who has made us Jews different from all
other people? Who has allowed us to suffer
so terribly until now? It is God Who has
made us as we are, but it will be God, too,
who will raise us up again. Who knows – it
might even be our religion from which the
world and all peoples learn good, and for
that reason and that reason alone do we
now suffer. We can never become just

Netherlanders, or just English, or represen-
tatives of any other country for that matter.

We will always remain Jews.

Anne Frank was on to something. The Tal-
mud asks, from where did Mount Sinai de-
rive its name? After offering a few alterna-
tives, the Talmud suggests that Mount

Sinai comes from Hebrew word “sinah”

which means hatred, because the non-
Jews’ hatred of the Jews descended upon

that mountain when the Jewish people re-
ceived the Torah there.

Torah demands a moral and ethical life-
style, an attitude of giving rather than tak-
ing, a life of service rather than of privi-
lege, that has revolutionized the world.

The Jewish people have been charged to be

the moral conscience of the world, a mis-
sion they have not always succeeded at,

but that nevertheless drew the ire, anger
and hatred of so many. For two thousand
years the Jews were bullied and persecuted
simply because of their Jewishness and all
that it stands for.
After the Holocaust, the world gave the
Jews a reprieve from their hatred, and for a
while we instead were beneficiaries of the
world’s pity. But looking at events around
the globe, it is rapidly becoming clear that
the last 70 years was an aberration. We are
witnessing the rise of antisemitism as the
world reverts back to its ageless pattern
and habit.
The Midrash (Eichah Rabbah 1) teaches
that three prophets used the term “eichah”
– o how! In Devarim, Moshe asks: “Eichah,
how can I alone bear your troubles, your
burden and your strife?” (Devarim 1:12) In
the Haftorah for Shabbos Chazon, the
Prophet Yeshayahu asks: “Eichah, how has
the faithful city become like a prostitute?”
Lastly, Yirmiyahu begins the Book of
Eichah: “Eichah, how is it that Jerusalem
is sitting in solitude! The city that was

filled with people has become like a wid-
ow…”

Eicha – How? How is it that antisemitism
persists? Why must they rise up against us
in every generation? On Tisha B’Av we

will sit on the floor and wonder aloud, ei-
cha? How could it be Jews have to fear for

their lives yet again? Eicha – how could it

be that today, with all the progress human-
ity has made, antisemitic views are on the

rise and becoming more and more accept-
able? Eicha – how could it be that terror

persists, that innocent and beautiful people
are being murdered guilty only of being
Jewish?
Rabbi Soloveitchik tells us that though the

Midrash identifies three times the word ei-
cha is used, in truth there is a fourth. When

Adom and Chava fail to take responsibili-
ty, Hashem calls out to them and says

ayeka, where are you? Ayeka is spelled
with the same letters as eicha, leading
Rabbi Soloveitchik to say that when we
don’t answer the call of ayeka, when we
don’t take personal responsibility for our

problems and blame others, we will ulti-
mately find ourselves asking eicha, how

could it be?
We can ask eicha, how could all of these
terrible things be, but we may never have
a definitive answer. Our job is to make
sure we can answer the call of ayeka,

where are you? Are you taking responsi-
bility?

We may not be able to fully understand
why antisemitism exists, but we can and

must remain vigilant in fighting it. We
must remain strong in standing up for Jews
everywhere. We must confront evil and do
all we can to defeat it. And above all, we

must do all that we can to take personal re-
sponsibility to fulfill the Jewish mission to

bring Godliness into the world.
Our job is not to be discouraged by asking
eicha, but to ensure that we can answer the
call of ayeka. Antisemitism will not come
to an end by assimilating and retreating. It

will come to an end when we can positive-
ly answer the question that the Talmud tells

us each one of us will be asked when we

meet our Maker: did you long for the re-
demption and did you personally take re-
sponsibility to do all that you can to bring

the redemption? Did you truly feel the pain
of exile and feel the anguish of the Jewish
condition in the world? Do you truly and
sincerely care? Did you anxiously await
every day for Moshiach to herald in an era

of peace and harmony, an end to antisemi-
tism and suffering, to bring about Jewish

unity and love, to repair and redeem this
world in Hashem’s image?
It isn’t enough to nod at Jews whom we
never met and with whom we aren’t about
to forge a relationship. We need to offer

more than a nod but a hug to those we en-
gage regularly, those who are similar,

whose children go to the same school, who
daven in the same minyan, who believe

and observe just like us, and even more im-
portantly those who make different choices

for themselves and their families but who
are forever part of our family. In public
places our natural inclination is to focus on
what we have in common with a fellow
Jew and nod. Why is it in our more private
lives we are drawn to see our differences
and negate?
Fast on Shiva Assar B’Tammuz and fast on

Tisha B’av if still necessary, but in be-
tween, don’t just abstain from music, hair-
cuts and shaving, engage in going beyond

your comfort zone to invite, host, befriend

or connect with a fellow Jew who is differ-
ent than you.

It is not enough to hope for redemption, we
must be the catalyst for it. It is not enough
to be tired of eicha, we must answer ayeka.